


Hamilton Imagines

by secretschuylersister



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, F/F, F/M, Modern Era, these are written in the second person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:38:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10093274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretschuylersister/pseuds/secretschuylersister
Summary: This is where I'll be posting my one-shot Hamilton imagines. Most of these are in response to prompts I've been sent. Chapter 1 is a table of contents with each story's pairing and a brief summary. The chapter title will also indicate the pairing, and I'll be updating the pairings and tags as I go.





	1. Table of Contents

_**Table of Contents:** _  

2. **There’s a Golden Ring (and I Want You to Have It):** Modern: Laurens/Reader: you reblogged a writing prompts post a while ago, could you do #99 with Laurens? #99: “I don’t care what they said, it doesn’t mean shit!”

3.  **A Place to Fit** : Canon: Thomas Jefferson/Reader: hey can you write an insecure reader who feels more comfortable with the confident Thomas Jefferson around, until a friend admits to liking him, and the reader can’t help comparing herself to the friend and feeling like she falls short?

4.  **Marry Me** : Canon: Peggy/Reader: You were eight years old the first time Peggy Schuyler asked you to marry her. Life is never quite the same after that.


	2. There’s a Golden Ring (and I Want You to Have It): Laurens/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: you reblogged a writing prompts post a while ago, could you do #99 with Laurens?
> 
> #99: “I don’t care what they said, it doesn’t mean shit!”

You breathed a sigh of relief as you walked out of the lecture hall where your last final of the year had taken place, the brisk winter air stinging your cheeks as you quickly wrapped your scarf around your neck.

This had truly been the semester from hell. Your goal of graduating early meant taking on an insane amount of credits, and it was really taking its toll on you. When you added in the fact that you needed to maintain your high GPA to keep your scholarship funding and had a part-time job in order to pay for your books and little luxuries like, you know, food, it was a miracle you were still standing upright.

It would be worth it when you earned your degree at the end of the next semester, saving yourself an entire year's worth of tuition and hopefully getting a jumpstart on grad school. You had big plans for life after undergrad, and dragging yourself through this year was just one hoop you had to jump through.

You walked into your tiny apartment and smiled when you saw your boyfriend standing at the stove, his curly hair tamed into a bun right on top of his head.

This year wasn't all bad. There were definite bright spots, and John was the brightest of them all. The two of you had met during your first week of freshman year. He was a sophomore, and he and his friends lived across the hall from you. Your roommate that year had been an absolute nightmare, and the boys had eventually taken you in as one of their own. John grew to be your best friend, the two of you completely inseparable.

It was only right before summer break of last year that John confessed he was in love with you. He said he couldn't stand to waste his last year at school with you pretending that being friends was enough. You admitted to him that the reason you hadn't had a long-term boyfriend since starting college was because you couldn't stop comparing every guy you met to him, and they all came up short. You made plans to rent an off-campus apartment together, and your relationship had been smooth sailing ever since. You knew each other so well that living together came as easily as breathing.

His head turned when he heard the door open, and a warm smile spread across his face. "Hey, you," he said, opening his arms to pull you into a tight hug. "How did your final go?"

"Pretty well, I think. Mostly just glad it's over," you answered, disentangling yourself from his hug and flopping face down on the couch. "Are you all packed?"

John winced. "Mostly."

You turned over and laughed in disbelief. "Laurens, how many days have I spent begging you to pack? We leave in the morning!"

John had asked you to spend winter break with him at his childhood home in South Carolina. You didn't especially want to go, but you knew he had a tense relationship with his parents and you wanted to be there for him. And it did mean a lot to you that he wanted you to see this part of his life.

"I promise, I'll pack after dinner. You can't be mad at me when I'm cooking for you!"

"I think you'll find that I certainly _can_ be mad at you no matter what you're doing, and I would argue that heating up food I made yesterday is playing it pretty fast and loose with the meaning of the word 'cooking.' I knew you would do this. I packed your suitcase a week ago, it's in the hall closet."

You looked over at John whose face had an expression on it that usually meant trouble. He launched himself at the couch and was on top of you before you could roll away, tickling you and covering your face in kisses as you laughed and tried to shove him off.

He pulled back and gave you a look that made your chest ache with how much you loved him. He placed one last kiss on your lips and pulled you up off the couch. "Come on, let's eat and then get some sleep. We have an early start tomorrow."

You were awake before the sun the next morning. John was carrying the suitcases to your car while you made some coffee for the road.

You spent the day playing silly car games, listening to music, and talking about the future. As you neared your location, the two of you had fallen into a comfortable silence. You glanced over at John, and were suddenly overwhelmed by how lucky you felt to have found someone like him. He was handsome and incredibly smart, but his genuine goodness was what you loved best. He and his friends all had plans to put their education to use in public service after graduation in one way or another, and you had no doubt that they would make this world a better place. It was clear from the day you met John that that's what he was meant to do.

John took your hand in his as you pulled in front of a sprawling estate. "Home sweet home," he muttered.

You knew John's family had money, but you had no idea it was anything like this. You were immediately intimidated, and those feelings only grew as you were greeted at the door by a butler (...people really have those?) who led you to the sitting room where John's parents were waiting.

His parents, Henry and Eleanor, were both impeccably dressed and had an air of formality about them that you had never before encountered in people inside their own home. You wanted to make a good impression, so you stood up a little straighter and put a friendly smile on your face.

John introduced you, and his parents politely (if a little coldly) introduced themselves. His father shook John's hand and his mother placed a perfunctory kiss on his cheek. You couldn't help but think of your own parents, who would have been smothering you and John both with hugs if you had been spending the holidays with them. It made you sad to think of John, so soft-hearted, growing up in a house like this. But maybe you weren't being fair. Families all showed affection differently, and it's possible this was just how the Laurens family operated.

As your week in South Carolina went on, it became apparent that your original assessment was entirely fair. John's parents never let their icy exterior drop, and had taken to making snide comments to you once John was out of earshot. Even when John was around, they were unkind in ways just courteous enough to avoid detection by someone not looking for it. You had been subjected to remarks about things ranging from your figure to your education to your last name. Though you were typically a confident person, their comments were wearing you down. It was hard to be surrounded by their beautiful things and not feel like you weren't measuring up. It only made matters worse that John was decidedly not himself here. He was snappish and uncomfortable, and you just could not wait for this trip to be over.

The unpleasantness came to a head on Christmas Eve.

John's parents were hosting their annual holiday party, seemingly attended by every wealthy family in a 100-mile radius. You suddenly found yourself wishing Alexander had joined you on this trip to meet John's family. Alex was John's best friend, and the two of you had bonded over coming from very little and working yourselves into the ground to get ahead. He wasn't here to ease the tension by whispering jokes at other people's expense, and because John was being kept busy by his parents greeting old acquaintances, you were on your own.

You were standing off in a corner when Eleanor found you and asked if she could speak with you. You glanced around the room, praying John would see you and step in. When he didn't, you allowed yourself to be led into the library, where John's father was seated. This was an ambush.

She began to talk about all the plans she and her husband had for John, all the money spent on his education. She pointedly brought up your background, but for the first time since you met her, you could tell she was not trying to be cruel.

"I suppose what I'm trying to say is that you and John come from very different worlds. He still hasn't shaken off his childhood idealism, but he will one day. Where would that leave you, when he finds that you're not moving in the same direction?"

On a normal day this would not have shaken you so badly, but after a week of feeling distant from John and badly about yourself, it hit you deeply.

His parents excused themselves without looking for a response, which was just as well, because you were rather speechless. You left the house and found yourself in the stables nearby. You were sitting on a trunk and looking at the horses when John eventually found you.

"There you are!" he exclaimed. "I've been looking all over for you."

He saw the expression on your face and sat down next to you, obviously concerned.

"Do you ever think we're not right for each other? In the long term?" you asked, your voice small.

All color drained from his face. "What are you talking about?"

"I know you'd never say it, but haven't you at least considered that I might be holding you back? I'll never fit into this kind of world, I'll never have connections like these. Your parents said -"

"I don't care what they said!" he interjected, practically spitting the words. "It doesn't mean shit!"

"Maybe not now, but what if it does one day? What happens a year from now? I don't want you to resent me, John!"

He looked stricken. "Resent you? How could I resent you, when you're the reason I even care about what my life looks like a year from now. I wasn't going to do this here, but -"

You could swear that your heart stopped as he got down on one knee.

"You have completely transformed my life. When something good happens to me, it becomes even better when I remember that I get to come home and tell you about it. The bad stuff is all bearable because I know I'm not going through it alone. You make me feel safe enough to take chances and you give me a reason to be careful. When I look at you, I know it's almost unfair how lucky I am. I want to spend every one of our days together. I love you, and I want to marry you more than I've ever wanted anything. Will you marry me?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Decades from now, you would explain to your grandchildren that you don't know if what they say about your life flashing before your eyes as you die is true, but you do know that you saw your future stretch out in front of you the moment their grandfather asked you to marry him. You saw wedding rings and freckle-faced babies. A cozy house with a little garden. Birthday cakes and hospital rooms. Gray hair and soccer practices. A life built together from the ground up.

"Yes," you answered, nodding your head frantically. "Yes, John! Of course I'll marry you."

You threw yourself into his arms, and he kissed your face and used his thumbs to wipe the tears off your cheeks.

"I have a ring for you, but it's back in the house. I've been carrying it around for months waiting for the perfect moment, and you catch me on the one night I leave it in my dresser," he moaned.

"You know I like to keep you on your toes."

"I guess I have a lifetime of that to look forward to," he teased.

"Lucky you."

"Lucky me, indeed."


	3. A Place to Fit: Thomas Jefferson/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: hey can you write an insecure reader who feels more comfortable with the confident Thomas Jefferson around, until a friend admits to liking him, and the reader can’t help comparing herself to the friend and feeling like she falls short?
> 
> Note: This is my first attempt to write something set during the show’s actual time period. Mostly I just tried to avoid any glaring anachronisms (because your girl knows very little about Revolutionary-era America). I did write this as though everyone was still young and single post-war, because I’m not willing to sacrifice the mental image of Daveed Diggs for historical accuracy.

You fidgeted with your gown, the bodice feeling uncomfortably tight and the skirt threatening to trip you as you walked from your carriage to the imposing home in front of you. Coming from a family without much money, the luxury of elaborate gowns and a maid to style your hair were rather foreign to you and left you feeling even more self-conscious than you typically did. Being dressed so formally truly put you out of your element, and your nerves about the dinner party you were attending didn't help matters any.

You were all too aware that the only reason you had received an invitation to this event being held by the Washingtons was because you were a distant relation. Martha was a cousin, and though she and her husband had always been kind to your family, you feared the invitation to their home was more to avoid slighting you than out of a genuine hope you would show. If you had your way, you would have spent your evening at home reading or perhaps taking a quiet walk around the park nearby. Your parents implored you to attend, and because they asked so little of you, you agreed.

Now that you were of marriageable age, both your mother and father had taken to encouraging you to step out into society and make use of the few connections you had. You were lucky in that they did not expect or want you to social climb for their benefit, but you knew they worried about your future. They wanted better for you than what they had for themselves, and marriage was really the one way for a woman to achieve that goal. Intellectually you understood this, but the idea of pursuing a husband made you queasy. It wasn't that you thought yourself ugly or dull, but you knew there were any number of women far more charming.

You collected your courage and knocked on George and Martha's front door. You were greeted by a servant and led into their sitting room where a handful of guests were gathered. You were relieved to see that Rebecca, your childhood friend and neighbor, had already arrived. Rebecca's family was rather like your own, only modestly comfortable but with several familial connections to those in higher stations. Unlike you, Rebecca was bold and commanded the attention of every room she inhabited.

She immediately stood up to greet you. "Oh, you look so lovely that I almost didn't recognize you!"

It was not uncommon for Rebecca to pay you compliments that felt more like disguised insults. You were never quite sure if this was intentional or not.

"Thank you, Becca. You look beautiful, as you always do," you responded, kissing her cheek.

Everyone in the room suddenly stood, and you looked towards the doorway as George and Martha entered with several men trailing behind them.

George spotted you first and came over to greet you. "My dear, Martha and I are so pleased to have you here. Have you made introductions?"

"I've only just arrived, Mr. President."

"No need to be so formal. We're family. George will do just fine," he said as he led you by the arm to meet some of his guests. You recognized many of the names as belonging to important figures during the war who were now important members of government.

"And this is our Secretary of State, Thomas Jefferson," George announced as you approached a handsome man in a rather flashy coat.

You introduced yourself with a shy smile and felt a blush warm your face as he bent to kiss your hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Secretary," you said and gave a slight curtsey.

"I assure you, the pleasure is all mine."

His tone was flirtatious and you were a little flustered by it. Determined not to make a fool of yourself, you smiled at him once more and excused yourself, explaining that you had yet to say hello to your cousin Martha. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked away, and perhaps it was silly, but you could feel your confidence soar.

You found Martha and thanked her for the invitation to their dinner.

"Of course! I'm so thrilled that you agreed to attend. Have any of the men been to your liking?" she asked slyly.

Your eyes darted to Secretary Jefferson against your will. It did not go unnoticed by Martha.

"Oh really? Now, that's an interesting choice."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," you blushed.

"Don't be coy, dear. The more I think on it, the more I can see the sense in it. I had bets placed on it being Mr. Laurens or perhaps even Mr. Burr who caught your eye."

"Bets?" you asked, eyes wide.

"George had high hopes for Gilbert."

You felt suddenly embarrassed. Were you perhaps invited here as a favor to your parents? You hated to think they thought you were chasing a husband for social benefits.

"You look upset. Don't be! George and I are simply very fond of you and would love to see you find happiness. We've also grown very fond of many of the young men here. That's all."

You nodded at her assurance and allowed her to take your hand for a moment. As you glanced around the room, you weren't the least bit surprised to see all the men flocking to Rebecca. Their attention made her glow. You looked away and inadvertently locked eyes with Thomas, one of the few men not gathered around your friend. Martha smiled and took her leave as he headed in your direction.

"Hello again, Secretary Jefferson."

He shot you an attractive grin. "Please, you must feel free to call me Thomas."

"Thomas, then." you acquiesced.

Just as the two of you began to speak, George announced that dinner was ready and led the party into the dining room. You were surprised at how pleased you were to find yourself seated next to Thomas. Martha gave you a knowing smile and you suspected there was some last minute rearranging on her part.

"I fear you'll tire of me before the night's end," Thomas teased as he pulled out your seat for you.

"I don't believe there's much chance of that at all," you replied, and smirked as Thomas's smile widened. It was unlike you to speak so plainly around a man, but something about Thomas's attitude and interest made you feel brave.

The food was served and you tried to be polite and follow the conversations that were taking place over the table. Thomas feigned no such interest, and instead spoke to you and you alone. You discussed your families, where you grew up, your love of books, his work during and after the war, and your thoughts on the current political climate. You had ceased to be surprised by his more suggestive comments, and were instead thrown by his seemingly genuine interest in your thoughts on political and academic matters. Most men didn't believe women were capable of forming opinions on things beyond clothing and idle gossip, or else didn't care to hear them. Thomas was different.

He unabashedly showered you with attention for the rest of the evening, laughing loudly at your jokes, not caring about the looks he was drawing from the other guests.

The end of the evening arrived, and after thanking George and Martha once more, you allowed Thomas to escort you to the carriage that would bring you home.

"I'll be seeing you,” he promised, kissing your hand once again and seeing you off.

You thought it unlikely that you would keep his attention beyond this one night, but you knew it was a night you'd remember for a long time to come.

Imagine your surprise when Thomas Jefferson showed up at the church nearest your family's home the following Sunday. You saw him searching the large room, his eyes lighting up when he found you. If this were any other man, your palms would be sweating and you would be looking for the nearest exist, but you only felt excitement.

Thomas approached you and gave a slight bow to your parents, introducing himself.

"We're quite aware of who you are, Secretary Jefferson," replied your father, his tone genial but respectful. "We were unaware our daughter had made your acquaintance."

"How odd, because I'm sure every person I've spoken to since last Friday can attest to the fact that I had the great pleasure of speaking with your daughter at the home of the president. In fact, they would tell you I've spoken of little else," he said smoothly, shooting you a teasing glance.

You had to muffle a laugh as your mother nearly swooned. Your father looked pleased, and led your mother to a pew, telling you to come find them before the service began.

You turned to Thomas. "I can't imagine there aren't churches closer to Monticello than this one."

"Perhaps, but none but this one holds you," he said with a wink.

"Well, your presence certainly cheers up the place," you joked, pointedly glancing at his brightly colored suit. You were rewarded with a wide smile.

Thomas Jefferson was perhaps the most openly flirtatious man you had ever met. It should have made you uncomfortable. When men flirted with you in the past, you always wondered on some level if they were teasing you. Thomas, so confident and charming, should have had you bolting for the door. Instead, you gave him your arm and let him join your family for the Sunday sermon.

To say you got looks for sitting with the handsome Secretary of State would be putting it very mildly. People were abuzz but you couldn't bring yourself to care. After the service, Thomas said goodbye to your parents and promised to see you soon. As soon as he was gone, Rebecca ran from her parents to find you.

"Did you know he would be here?" she asked you, sounding almost accusatory.

"Of course not. I didn't even know he knew where we lived."

She didn't look like she quite believed you but let it drop.

In the weeks that followed, Thomas Jefferson became a familiar sight in your small town. Your parents were delighted every time he stopped by your house, even if it was only for an hour. He always seemed to turn up in the places you frequented, and you found yourself keeping an eye out for his tall frame and head of wild curls wherever you went. It was on one such afternoon that you were at the market with Rebecca when you both noticed Thomas Jefferson across the square, trapped in a conversation with Mrs. Livingston, an elderly woman who everyone knew to avoid if you had somewhere to be. It was comical seeing someone as commanding as he being held hostage by a woman half his height.

You were watching and laughing as Thomas tried to politely extract himself from her grasp when Becca nearly brought you to your knees.

"He doesn't know it yet, but he's going to court me," she whispered, smoothing her gown and gazing at Thomas.

"I-I'm sorry?" you stammered, your head spinning. It wasn't the first time in your life that Rebecca developed feelings for someone only after seeing that you were interested, but it was the first time you felt so devastated by it.

You looked at Rebecca and were forced to acknowledge again how beautiful she was. Her features were delicate, her clothes were impeccable, and (perhaps most importantly) she knew it. She was never afraid to be forward and pursue who she wanted.

"He's been spending so much time away from his home and his work. He must be looking for a wife," she explained. "Why not me? I think I'd make a fine politician's wife."

And she would. The odds of Thomas choosing you with Rebecca competing for his attention were nil.

"I'm going to free him from the clutches of Mrs. Livingston," she told you before gliding across the street.

You watched Rebecca place her hand on Thomas's arm and your heart clenched. You didn't particularly want to watch this unfold, so you started the walk back to your house. You knew you needed to nip the feelings that were developing in the bud if you were to have any chance at preventing a broken heart.

You were only a block or two away when you heard your name being called. You spun around and saw Thomas jogging after you, looking more disheveled than you'd ever seen him. You paused and let him catch up to you, and you felt your hand reach out and move the curls that had fallen in his face. When you realized what you were doing, you wrenched your hand back down to your side. His eyes were shining at you and his smile was tender instead of cocky.

"Where were you running off to?" he asked, outwardly a little uncertain for the first time since you'd met.

"Home. I thought you'd want to spend the afternoon with Rebecca, so-"

"Rebecca?" he jumped in. "Your friend from the party?"

You nodded and he laughed. "Now, I'm no expert in courting, I confess...but surely you don't believe I've been traveling here every week to take in the sights? Or to pursue your friend, who I've never exchanged a single word with?"

He was shaking his head, and you couldn't make out whether his expression was one of frustration or amusement.

"Not exactly. The talk is that you're seeking a wife. If I may speak in my own defense, you haven't ever shared the purpose of your visits with me."

"Then I should be clear,” he said, his usual smirk back on his face. “Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself, but the “talk” is only half true. I'm not seeking a wife, exactly. Rather, I'm hoping to convince one woman in particular to consider me."

Your heart was thrumming in your chest.

“Oh? She's a very lucky woman,” you said, amazed you could find the strength to make a joke when you felt sure your life was about to change.

“I would be the lucky one. She's very beautiful, you see. More than that, she's intelligent and insightful and kind. If I'm being honest, she makes me nervous, and that's a rather new sensation for me,” he continued, taking a step closer to you. “And to avoid any confusion, the woman I'm talking about is standing in front of me.”

He took both of your hands. He said you made him nervous, and you had to smile at that. He did just the opposite for you: he made you feel secure, like you fit at his side.

"I'd like to make my intentions clear, to you and to everyone. Will you join me for dinner tonight?”

"I would love that,” you breathed out.

His toothy grin spread across his face before he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you in for a kiss.

He made you feel like you fit there, too.


	4. Marry Me: Peggy/Reader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: You were eight years old the first time Peggy Schuyler asked you to marry her. Life is never quite the same after that. Canon era.

You were eight years old the first time Peggy Schuyler asked you to marry her.

You were new to Albany, only having arrived the day before, and your mother sent you out to meet the neighborhood children while she worked to set up the new house.

You found a large group of kids about your age playing at a nearby park, and lingered at the edge the crowd. You were naturally a little shy and that was especially true when you were surrounded by strangers. The others were pairing off to “play married” and in the end, only you and a tan girl with curly hair were left.

“Looks like you two can’t play,” sneered a little boy with an upturned nose.

You quickly turned to go home when the girl put her hand on your arm to stop you. “And just why not?” she asked, her other hand on her hip and an intimidating expression on her face.

“There are no boys left for you,” he explained slowly, as though you were too simple to understand.

“Who in the world says you need boys?” she asked before turning to you. “Want to marry me?”

Her face softened when she looked at you and you smiled and nodded.

“Two girls can’t get married!” insisted the boy whose name you still didn’t know.

“Watch us!” your new friend shouted. “Come on, let’s go to my house. We can play there.”

You let yourself be dragged along until you finally worked up the nerves to introduce yourself.

“Oh, that was rude of me! My name is Peggy Schuyler,” she said and gave you something that was half handshake and half curtsy.

You smiled a little at the gesture and tried to return it.

“You live so close to me! Our gardens connect,” you excitedly pointed out as Peggy brought you to her house.

You were introduced to Mrs. Schuyler and she sent you upstairs to play. You spent that whole day with Peggy, something that would become routine in the years to follow.

When it was time for you to go home, Peggy walked you to the edge of her garden.

“I’m glad you agreed to marry me. See you tomorrow?”

You nodded, thrilled she wanted to see you again. You were a few feet away when you turned around. “Peggy? I’m glad you _asked_ me to marry you.”

* * *

You were thirteen the first time Peggy Schuyler asked you to kiss her.

Since your first meeting five years earlier, the two of you had grown to be inseparable. Your tentative nature kept her out of trouble, and her outgoing attitude helped break you out of your shell. Your families both agreed that you were a good influence on one another, and you were as welcome in the Schuyler house as Peggy was in yours.

After a tedious day of lessons with your shared governess, your parents allowed Peggy to spend the night. You were supposed to have gone to sleep hours ago, but instead you were curled up together on your bed, gossiping and laughing.

“Daniel Caldwell kissed Eliza yesterday,” Peggy confessed in hushed tones. “I’m not supposed to tell.”

Your eyes widened at the news. “But Eliza loathes Daniel! Why would she let him?”

“She didn’t. He kissed her without asking. Angelica marched over to his house when she heard and nearly twisted his ear off,” Peggy giggled.

“Poor Eliza,” you sighed.

“She was upset. That was her first kiss, and he just took it. I’d never want a boy I didn’t like to get my first kiss.”

“No, neither would I,” you agreed.

Peggy paused for a moment and you looked at her curiously. “You could kiss me, if you wanted. We could be each other’s first kiss.”

Your cheeks flushed at the offer. Peggy was so pretty and the candlelight bouncing off her face only added to the effect. The thought of kissing her wasn’t at all unpleasant. “Okay,” you whispered.

“Really?” she asked, looking surprised.

You shrugged and she leaned in closer to you. The two of you were frozen until you finally chuckled and closed the gap, pressing your mouth to hers. You had miscalculated somehow and you both pulled back laughing after your teeth smashed together.

“Try again?” Peggy asked.

When you nodded, she leaned back in and kissed you. This time everything went exactly right.

“Remember when I said I wouldn’t want a boy I didn’t like to kiss me?” Peggy asked a short while later as the two of you tried to fall asleep.

“Mhm,” you hummed.

“What if I told you I wouldn’t want any boy to kiss me? At all.”

You looked at her and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “I would tell you I understand, because I feel the same way.”

Peggy kept her eyes fixed on the bit of lace on your nightgown that she was fiddling with. “Do you think that makes us strange?” she asked quietly.

“Maybe, but I don’t think it makes us bad.”

You grinned when you saw the smile return to her face.

Not much changed after that. Peggy was still your very best friend. Now she was just your best friend who kissed you sometimes.

* * *

You were seventeen the second time Peggy asked you to marry her.

“Guess who?”

You smiled as a pair of hands covered your eyes and soft hair tickled your cheek. You were sitting on a bench in your garden, and you carefully closed the book you had been reading.

“It sounds like the voice of the most beautiful girl I know. Eliza?”

Peggy uncovered your eyes and tugged on your hair. “You’re getting cruel in your old age.”

You tilted your head back to look at her and she dropped a quick kiss on your lips.

“Peggy,” you scolded. “We’re outside!”

She sat down on the bench next to you and sighed. “Wouldn’t it be nice to not have to look over our shoulders every time we wanted to be near each other?”

You stayed quiet for a moment. It was a conversation you had shared many times before.

“It would, but we live in the world we live in. We have to be careful. The next time we’re found, it might not be by your sister.”

Peggy smiled at the memory and you rolled your eyes at her.

_It was during the Schuyler’s Christmas ball two years ago that it happened. Peggy, a little tipsy from the wine she had been allowed during dinner, pressed you against the wall in an alcove off the ballroom. Her lips had just met yours when Angelica happened by. The two of you heard her gasp and sprung apart, staring at her in shock. She hurried away, and you spent the rest of the evening terrified she’d reveal your secret._

_She found you and Peggy the next afternoon and told you that she loved you both. She feared for you, and warned you about discretion, but had become an unexpected ally in the time since. She covered for you on more than one occasion, and ran interference when necessary. It was more than either of you had expected._

“I know. You’re right, of course,” Peggy agreed half-heartedly.

“But you and I have a full seven days to ourselves,” you smiled, reminding her that she was staying at your home while your parents visited family several towns over. “I imagine you’ll find plenty of time to kiss me.”

“Will you marry me?” she asked, looking serious but with a small smile playing at her lips.

“If we could, I would marry you right this minute.”

“Have I told you what Eliza has been up to?” she asked.

“No,” you responded, a bit confused at the abrupt change in subject.

“She’s courting a revolutionary. A poor one, at that.”

“Oh, I’m sure your father loves that,” you laughed.

“And that isn’t all. Angelica is in love with him, too. She would never admit it, but it’s obvious to everyone but Eliza.”

“That’s horrible,” you replied.

“It is, but there is one silver lining.”

“And what’s that?”

“Our house has been so full of dramatics lately that my parents might actually be relieved if I told them you and I were to be married.”

You laughed at that and took Peggy by the hand. The two of you walked through your garden and tossed out ideas on how to be together, each one more far fetched than the last.

“If foreign islands and castles are out of the question, might I suggest we decide to be spinsters? We can live together and say it’s because no husband would have us,” you suggested playfully.

“And everyone would pity us, not realizing you and I were happier than they had ever been.”

“Exactly right.”

Peggy stopped walking and you turned to look at her. “We could do that, you know. Not get married and stay with each other. Women do that sometimes.”

The breeze was blowing through her hair and you knew you’d never seen anything as beautiful. “Do you really think we could?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” she promised.

If anybody could do it, it would be Peggy. She had never broken a promise to you before, and you knew she didn’t intend to start now. It felt like your future had somehow been decided when she took your arm in that park all those years ago. She chose you then and she was doing it again now. All you had to do was choose her back.

“We’d never be able to have a real wedding.”

“I’d rather have _you_ than a wedding.”

“Will our anniversary be today or are we counting our first wedding back when we were small?”

A huge smile lit up Peggy’s face and she wrapped you in a hug. “There’s no reason we can’t celebrate both.”

As Peggy described the house you’d live in and the places you’d visit, you allowed yourself to picture a life with her for the first time. It looked like adventure and safety and everything you had ever wanted.

“Peggy?” you interrupted. “I’m glad you asked me to marry you.”

She looked at you and bit her lip, remembering you saying the very same thing on the day you had met.

“I’m glad you agreed.”


End file.
